


I Know I Don't Belong

by lunesque (Moriavis)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Prompt Fic, Sastiel - Freeform, Unrequited Love, in denial!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriavis/pseuds/lunesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you hear me?" Cas asked. "I said, Sam told me he loved me."</p><p>Alternately:</p><p>Denial isn't just a river in Egypt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know I Don't Belong

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Flailosaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Flailosaurus) collection. 



> Thank you so much to everyone in Flailosaurus! You're all amazing.
> 
> This is unbeta'ed, but hopefully I didn't miss too many errors.

~*~

"Did you hear me?" Cas asked. "I said, Sam told me he loved me."

Dean's throat clenched tight, and he swallowed around the sudden lump as he skirted around Cas to go into the kitchen. He grabbed himself a beer from the fridge and took a healthy swig, the dark taste comforting as always, although he knew it was a problem. "Yeah," Dean said after a moment. "I—uh. Didn't know he swung that way, but ... it's cool."

He didn't fidget under Cas' unblinking stare, so hey. That was a win. "You're—are you asking my opinion? Because thinking about what Sammy does in the bedroom is—really not my thing, you know?" Dean took another swig of beer and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're uncomfortable," Cas observed, and Dean snorted and rolled his eyes before he turned to face his friend.

"Yeah, buddy," Dean agreed. His skin was itching, and he fought the urge to rub his arms as he took a deep breath, then exhaled. Fortified, he grabbed a chair and swung it around in front of Cas, sitting on it backward and gripping the wooden slats of the chair back. "Okay. You look confused."

"I'm not confused," Cas said. "Merely thoughtful."

"Okay." Dean cleared his throat. "Listen, I'm not good at the feelings crap, okay? He likes you. Just talk it out with him, or something. See if you feel the same, and where you—want to go from there."

"All right." Cas' forehead furrowed, and Dean cleared his throat again.

"Right. Good talk." Dean rubbed the back of his head. "So. I'm gonna—head out. Give you guys some private time." He stood and slid the dining room chair back into place.

"Dean," Cas said, and Dean paused mid-stride, on his way to the door.

"Yeah, Cas?" Something like anticipation curled in Dean's gut as he looked back at Cas, and he found himself holding his breath as he waited for Cas to speak.

Cas frowned, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something, and then closed his mouth. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything," Dean said, shaking his head. He huffed a small laugh and gave Cas a cocky smile. "Sam's a good kid, Cas. You could do worse." He grinned again, short and sharp, and grabbed his coat as he headed out the door.

He trotted down the stairs to the garage, rubbing his hands together. The air had a bite, even though it was still technically in the bunker, and he had to blow into his hands to keep them warm as he walked to the Impala. His face hurt, so he dropped his smile, rubbed his cheeks as though it would get the ache out.

Dean slid into the driver's seat and started the car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the Impala warmed up, and then he ran a hand through his hair.

What he needed now was chicken tenders and some beer. He pulled out of the garage and headed to the closest bar. That would do.

~*~

Dean ate greasy bar chicken and downed a pitcher or two of beer, played a game or two (or three) of pool just for fun, and ended his night flirting with a cute blond at the bar. His evening ended on a high note as he got her into the back seat of the Impala and spent some time between her legs, teaching her to scream his name until she became so sensitive that she had to laugh and push him away. She returned the favor with a blowjob, and at the end of it all he gave her a kiss good night and took her number, although he knew he wouldn't call it.

He drove back to the bunker, dread growing like a lump at the bottom of his stomach, and he snuck in from the garage, hanging up his jacket and going to the first bathroom h saw to wash his hands and face, as though he could clean off the smell of alcohol and perfume and sex.

He splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror, taking several slow breaths and counting to ten in his mind. He couldn't keep hiding. That was stupid anyway, because he wasn't hiding from anything.

Dean flung open the door, knocking on the walls as he made his way down the hall, toward their central living space.

"Yo, Sammy! You guys need more alone time? Knock once for yes, twice for no! You got a sock on your door?" Dean continued along, getting no response, until he made his way to the living room and found Sam and Cas sitting on the sofa. "Dude. There better not be any stains there, is all I'm saying."

"Don't be gross, Dean," Sam said, but he turned a smile on Dean that made his heart melt. He hadn't seen Sam looking so happy since—he couldn't even remember when. Madison, maybe, before that whole thing went to hell.

"That's a weird look on your face, Sammy," Dean said, his own smile genuine. "Could just be your face, though. It's always been kind of weird."

It was a weak joke, he knew, but it made Sam roll his eyes, and Cas frowned, as though he were aware of how bad the joke was and didn't know if he should inform Dean.

"Should I say congratulations?" Dean asked instead, and was rewarded by another of Sam's smiles, that one a little shy.

"Yeah?" Sam ventured. "I—Cas and I are a thing now. It—doesn't bother you?"

Dean shrugged. "I just want you to be happy, dude. I don't care if it's with a girl, or a guy, or—waves of celestial intent the size of the Chrysler building, okay?"

Sam stood, and Dean had just enough time to brace himself before he was whammied by a full-on bear hug. "Thanks, Dean."

"Just remember what I said," Dean continued as they separated. "I don't want to walk in on anything, so socks on the door handles. Seriously."

"I've got it," Sam promised.

Dean cleared his throat, a little awkward, and his eyes lit on Cas again, who stared back at Dean like he was trying to work out a puzzle.

"And you," Dean said hastily, before Cas could say anything weird, "I'd say welcome to the family, but you're kind of already that, so ... you get the big brother speech instead. You hurt Sammy, I'll kick your ass. Capisce?"

Cas continued to look up at him for a second, and then gave a solemn nod. "Capisce."

"And you—" Dean turned to Sam and jabbed a finger at his shoulder. "Treat Cas good."

Sam laughed at that, and nodded. "Yeah, Dean. I know."

"Good." Dean shook his head. "Great talk. I'm going to bed." He stretched his arms over his head and headed toward his room without waiting for any goodbyes. When the door was closed and safely locked behind him, He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then took another. For a moment, Dean felt sick, full to the brim with a desperate sort of restlessness. He wanted the First Blade in his hand, its clarity of purpose, and the ache was so strong it felt like lust.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and his eyes settled on his desk, on a book of monsters that he had set there on their last hunt, and he went after it with the relief of a drowning man finding land.

Thank god for monsters. Always there when he needed something to kill.

~fin~


End file.
